Bloody Bargains
by Lucinda
Summary: When Spike hears just what Acathala is supposed to do, he doesn't like what he hears. Fortunately, he's got a plan... one-shot written for the Fall-For-Spike ficathon.


Author: Lucinda

Rated y-14, content similar to the series

Disclaimer: If you recognize them, they are not mine.

Distribution: Fall for Spike, Mental Wanderings

Notes: set in s2, a different result from the Acathala and resouling processes. Thanks to Gabrielle for the beta reading.

..

Spike listened as Drusilla nattered on about how glorious things would be after Daddy woke the stone prince. She swayed in the moonlight as she whispered of the world burning and the air filling with screams and whimpers. Her hands trailed over her curves, fingers caressing velvet-clad breasts and skimming over her stomach as Angelus watched. It wasn't long before Angelus was kissing her, then just a single comment about how some pleasures were nicer on silken sheets before they were both departing the room, practically running for a bedroom.

It was then that Spike decided that he hated them. Drusilla had abandoned him the instant that Angelus had returned, and he was given scarcely more consideration than yesterday's newspapers. Worse were the times when he could see her watching him, eyes sparkling at his pain while she shamelessly offered herself to Angelus, caressing him in front of Spike. Those actions were intended to humiliate Spike at least as much as they were intended to please Angelus. She couldn't have made her disdain more clear had she carved the words in his flesh and set them on fire. He hated this new Angelus as well. He wasn't the same as he'd been a century ago; he was every bit as cruel as the Sire that Spike remembered, but he didn't watch out for them. He didn't try to guide and protect his children. He only sought to pleasure himself, to rut with Drusilla, to feed, and to taunt the Slayer.

Spike glared at the pattern of cracks on the wall, pondering this new, mad scheme of theirs. Acathala the Devourer, a powerful demon imprisoned in stone to prevent him from sucking the world into hell. For some insane reason, Drusilla and Angelus thought it would be a splendid thing to awaken Acathala. Spike didn't understand it, couldn't understand the appeal of sucking the world into hell. They were in the world, part of it, and he knew that vampires, impressive as they were compared to humans, were small potatoes in the demonic hierarchy. Angelus's mad plan would take them from being well-placed predators in a human-controlled world to low-level peons in a demonic nightmare.

The minions were too stupid to understand what would happen. Drusilla was too insane to care, if she realized it at all. Spike sighed, feeling that if something was to be done, it seemed that it would be him that had to do it. He just didn't think that he could manage it by himself. He could probably deal with most of the minions, if he was careful and clever in removing them. But Angelus and Drusilla... he wasn't strong enough to fight them both. He had to find another way to defeat them, to negate their superior strength.

For a few minutes, he pondered the various rituals and methods that he knew of to empower a vampire, imagining that he could somehow become powerful enough to defeat them both, or to slay Angelus and torture Drusilla back into his arms and bed. No, he didn't really want her back, not after everything, it just provided a nicely satisfactory end to his fantasy. He didn't want someone that he knew was unfaithful. Besides, the rituals either needed assistance in preparation or wouldn't be possible within the time constraints that he had to face. Sooner or later, Angelus would figure out how to wake that stupid stone demon up.

He would need an ally, possibly more than one. Someone to help him fight his Sire and Dru.

Slowly, he considered the possible options. As he thought, he wheeled the miserable chair out of the mansion and down the street. There were no rival vampire leaders to approach - between his own actions before Angelus had returned and the actions of the bastard himself, there were no powerful rivals, though there were scattered vampires that didn't answer to them. The powerful demons were untrustworthy, and as likely to attack him as agree to attack his Sire. That really only left humans...

No. That left humans and Slayers.

Spike shuddered at the very idea of approaching a Slayer for aid. They were the enemies of vampires, empowered to fight and kill. Slayers attacked first, and possibly questioned before killing. The idea was insane. Almost as insane as a plan to suck the world into hell.

He abandoned the chair behind an empty building, walking slowly. He was healing from the collapse of that miserable church where he'd restored Dru to strength, much good as that had done him. He was easily a match for a human, though any truly skilled vampire or a Slayer would probably be able to kick his ass. His mind turned over the idea of a Slayer, considering things carefully. A Slayer could fight his Sire, and if he had a Slayer with him, they could probably prevent Acathala from being awakened. The Slayer would probably be killed, but that was what happened to Slayers, and it wasn't as if he really cared when or how a Slayer died. There were even two of them now, as horrible as that thought seemed. Two Slayers, how did that fit with the natural--or supernatural--order of things anyhow? If he could approach one of them, and get her to listen long enough to explain the insane plan that Angelus had... Maybe. At any rate, if he tried that, it would pretty much guarantee that he wouldn't be around and imperiled when Acathala sucked the world into hell.

He could feel the presence of a Slayer up ahead, in a nice residential section. Creeping closer, he could hear two female voices, talking in an upstairs room.

"... restore him. It could bring Angel back!" She sounded nervous and excited.

"My Angel? Not this evil guy?" There was a pause, and he could hear sniffles. "I miss him so much, and it's just so hard, seeing Angelus running around. He looks like Angel, but he's not. Would this ritual actually even work?"

Spike growled at the Slayer's words. Damn Slayer wanted her soul-having boyfriend back... which wouldn't be that bad, as far as Spike was concerned. If he was all soul-having again, he'd be away from them. But if she was hoping for that, it would do him no good to try to convince her to fight him.

"It sounds like it. I mean, it's bigger than anything that me or Giles have ever done, I haven't really done much more than floating a pencil and that un-invitation spell, but... Giles says the theory's sound, and it should work."

"I want him back, Willow. I want this whole nightmare to be over, and for him to just hold me again, like he used to."

Making a face, Spike moved away. Much more of that sap and he'd start to get cavities. On the positive side, if Angelus got his soul back, he'd probably stop trying to send the world to hell.

He continued, smirking as he saw the nice cemetery where he'd found the DuLac cross. Feeling nostalgic, he meandered inside, wondering if it might not be better to stay here, in one of the lovely mausoleums instead of returning to the mansion, where he'd have to watch Dru and Angelus, and the impending end of the world. As he wandered deeper into the cemetery, he heard the sound of fighting.

He'd found the other Slayer.

She was fighting a pair of young vampires, neither one looking particularly memorable. As he watched, she separated them, easy enough as they had no concept of teamwork, and knocked one into a tombstone, leaving him stunned. Spike noticed a few piles of dust near them, suggesting that her opposition had started as more than just two vampires. The standing vampire was staked and the second regained his footing, attempting to tackle her from behind.

The Slayer rolled with the force of it, and managed to twist so that she was facing the vampire, before pushing him away from her. It wasn't long before the tackling vampire was also dust. The Slayer was still there, on the ground, attempting to catch her breath, bleeding from a dozen tiny wounds. They weren't enough to weaken her, and they'd probably all be gone by morning, but the aroma of Slayer's blood was delightful.

Spike clapped, offering the comment, "Bloody good show there." He moved closer, standing just outside of range for an attack.

"Vampire..." She glared at him, muscles tensing as her fingers groped for the stake that was just out of her reach.

Moving swiftly, Spike reached down, grabbing the stake. "And you're a Slayer. Now that we've identified each other, there's something that I wanted to discuss with you."

She flipped back and away, landing in a crouch, eyes suspicious as she rose up, farther from him. She looked ready to fight in a heartbeat. Raising one eyebrow, she demanded, "What could I have to discuss with a vampire?"

"Rum, the proper way to prepare a good cup of tea, the state of politics..." Spike shrugged, watching her as he spoke. She seemed tense, watching him with eyes that were every bit as feral and dangerous as most demons. "How about preventing the end of the world as you and I know it?"

The Slayer blinked, shaking her head slightly, long braids slithering over her shoulders like tiny snakes. "What? You want to talk about the end of the world?"

He tapped her stake against his hand, trying to look casual. She probably had another weapon, and if she attacked, he didn't think he could take her in a fair fight. For that matter, he wasn't certain he could take her in an unfair fight, if he were honest with himself. "Does the name Acathala sound familiar to you?"

She lunged at him, the words as much an attack as her fists. "I won't let you release the devourer!"

Spike dropped, trying to push her away before she could grab the stake. "I don't want him woken up, you daft wench!"

She glared at him, pinning him to the ground. "Why should I believe you?"

"I like this world. There's dog racing, Manchester United, good music, and people. Lots of people running around like Happy Meals on legs..." Spike felt a tiny chill as her eyes remained blank. It was as if she didn't know the first thing about enjoying the world.

"Manchester United?" The words were soft, puzzled.

"A sports team." He pushed at her, not an attack, more of a hint to let go. "Hellfire, haven't you ever gone out and had a little fun? Lived a little before you get sent out to die?"

"I was raised to be the Slayer." Her words were soft, and she was staring into his eyes, as if she was trying to read him, or enthrall him.

Taking the risk, Spike pulled at her mind, deciding to attempt that mind-reading thrall trick. She held no moments of remembered or stolen passion, no secret indulgences or cherished memories. Her life echoed, barren, empty, joyless. "They never even let you live before sending you to die."

She slapped at him, eyes bright with anger, "I have lived!"

"No, you haven't. Not really. You're alive, and you've been alive, but you haven't experienced life." Spike caught her hand, the stake between his flesh and hers. "I want you to help me. Angelus wants to release Acathala, and Dru's trying to help him. I can't fight them both."

"I know how to fight vampires." Her words were flat, habitual even as her eyes screamed frustration, as her pulse hammered in her throat.

Spike licked his lips, wanting to taste the blood that he could smell; wanting to taste her and find out if she tasted as good as the one in New York, as satisfying as the one in China. Her body was pressed against his, taller and leaner than Drusilla, but every bit as appealingly feminine. "If we work together, we can keep Acathala from waking up, keep the world from being sucked into hell."

Her fingers curled, brushing against his hand. "It sounds dangerous. We could both be killed."

"I'm willing to take that chance." Spike met her eyes. "Are you?"

"Why should I trust you?" The question was soft, almost a plea; brown eyes fixed on his.

"I give you the word of someone who used to be an English gentleman; I want Acathala stopped. I want the world to go on, with lots of humans, and not sucked into hell." Spike's words were soft; he hoped that sincerity would work better than shouting. It also happened to be entirely true.

For a moment, she just stared into his eyes. Finally, she nodded. "I accept. Tell me what you can."

He let go of her hand, a tiny rumble in his chest as she moved away from his body, standing over him. He closed his eyes, regathering his control, and rose to his feet, the motion controlled, graceful, hiding the pain that flared along his spine. His wounds were still healing. "There's probably a dozen minions, none of them particularly smart or skilled at fighting. They're pretty much like the ones you fought here, except that they'll know the mansion, try to use it against you. Angelus is strong, but he loves to play games, mind games if he can, cat and mouse games if there's nothing more entertaining."

"Is that what you call fun?" Anger vibrated in her voice, flashed in her eyes.

"It's what he calls fun, and if you know that, you can be more prepared," Spike retorted. "As for Dru, she plays helpless when she can, likes to let someone else do the fighting for her."

"So, would she be able to defend herself?" The Slayer mused, eyes taking on the contemplative gleam of someone planning. "If the minions are slain, if Angelus is not there..."

"Don't look in her eyes," Spike insisted. "She'll suck you in, wrap you up in this good feeling, like you're floating, and then... pain. She's got a taste for spikes and shackles, though with you, she might just rip your throat out. She's done it before, out hunting."

The expression on the Slayer's face conveyed both dismay and horror. "I'll keep that in mind."

"I'm not strong enough to get rid of them both," Spike murmured, hating the apologetic note that had crept into his voice.

"Tell me where," the Slayer insisted. "Tell me where, and we can strike at sunset."

"He picked out a mansion on Crawford Street, decided that it would be a perfect lair. There's a central courtyard where he's placed Acathala. You can't miss the place, it's the only house on the street that makes the hair on the back of your neck writhe like a worm on a hook," Spike explained. "I can get some of the minions, and if I strike from behind while their attention is on you... He won't notice anything until they're all dust."

"Are you certain that he will not expect you to work against him?" Her hand tightened on the stake, and her thumb rubbed along the side of the wood.

"I was injured when we fought at the church, he thinks I'm still crippled from that. He won't suspect a thing from me," Spike hissed, angry at the contemptuous dismissal of his Sire.

She nodded, and took a step away from him. "I will be there as the sun sets."

"I'll be ready," Spike grinned.

Feeling cheered by his bargain with the Slayer, Spike meandered around, eventually nearing a club. There was a blonde stalking away, her short skirt riding up high enough to show the tops of her stockings. She was muttering something about stupid jerks.

All he really had to do was keep his teeth in as he flashed a smile and the daft girl was simpering at him. They walked a short distance, and he made a few sympathetic noises as she complained about some guy. A few idle compliments and she was kissing him, pressing her hot body against him, offering herself to him.

Who was he to say no? A quick shag in the alley, and he drank her, while she was still too lost in pleasure to notice as he killed her.

Women should know better than to fling themselves at complete strangers like that anyhow. It just wasn't safe.

He collected the wretched wheelchair, returning to the mansion and slipping in the back. He could hear Angelus and Drusilla, still entertaining themselves down the hall. He would enjoy seeing them fall to dust. He would enjoy seeing those faithless, betraying eyes widen in sudden, fatal shock; seeing that perfect mouth form a little 'ohh' as Dru's existence ended.

Spike almost managed to convince himself that he wouldn't miss her when she was gone.

Spike was ready as he felt the sun sinking. He had an axe, carefully sharpened and with a point behind the blade, as well as a couple of stakes. The single minion that had slipped into his rooms, grown careless due to Angelus's contempt for Spike, was dust before he could process the sight of Spike out of the chair, standing. He grinned, pleased by the ease with which the blade had severed the idiot's head.

He felt the sun setting at the same moment that a resounding crash came from the front of the house. It didn't have the sound of a door being kicked in, more like something toppling to the ground. The minions would be going there, and he could feel the Slayer's presence. Opening the door, he grabbed the last minion running past, his grip on its throat too tight to allow a scream. He slammed the minion against the wall, and then slashed with the axe, enjoying the play of light on the blade, the spray of blood as the head flew away, the body crumbling to dust. "The big bad's back."

He made his way towards the main hall, picking off two more minions. The Slayer was there, fighting a tangle of minions in the courtyard. She held a shining sword in one hand and a stake in the other. Her movements were graceful, as if she was dancing, and death was her partner. The last two minions tried to run, one charging towards Spike and the other towards the kitchen, where Drusilla had insisted on putting a pot of plants and a caged bird, both now dead. He could feel them in there, Angelus and Drusilla, probably listening to the sounds of fighting. That sort of thing always got her riled-up and lusty...

Seizing the minion, Spike twisted the unfortunate's head right off. He'd made a deal - kill the minions, fight and slay Drusilla and Angelus, and prevent the release of Acathala. No matter how many memories were stirred up and crushed. No matter how wrong it felt to make a bargain with a Slayer.

Drusilla ran out with a shriek, her dress half unbuttoned and slipping down her shoulder. Tiny bites had been placed across her shoulder, leaving Spike with no doubts as to what the fight was interrupting. Angelus followed, clad only in a pair of pants.

The only word that Spike could think of to describe the glorious sensation of hitting Angelus in the back with his axe was effulgent. It was a feeling of white-hot glee.

Unfortunately, it hadn't been enough to finish the bastard off, and so Spike found himself facing Angelus. He still wasn't at full strength, but he had an axe, and Angelus had a gaping wound in his back. Angelus lunged, snarling but clumsy, and Spike scooted to the side, landing a vicious chop to his Sire's shoulder as Angelus ripped along the side of his leg, leaving bloody gashes. Angelus snarled, eyes wide in shock as Spike swung again, hacking deep into the shoulder and nearly severing his sire's head. A second blow and he fell, severed head rolling away with a shocked look.

That felt amazingly satisfying, actually.

Spike looked up, checking on the Slayer, checking on Dru. They were both bleeding, minor wounds that weren't enough to finish the fight. Dru's dress was stained with blood, clinging to her skin, outlining one hip and making it clear that there was no corset underneath the soft muslin. As he smiled, Dru caught the Slayer's eyes, and stepped close, whispering, trying to enthrall the fighter. She stilled, the sword clattering on the ground as it fell from suddenly limp fingers. Dru smiled, stepping closer, fingers curving.

As Dru struck, the slayer's other hand rose, plunging a stake through her back.

Screaming, Dru fell to ashes.

Gasping wetly, the Slayer fell to her knees, blood steaming on her throat, her stake having pierced her own ribs after punching through Drusilla's body. She was dying.

"You didn't even get to live..." Spike stepped closer.

It wasn't right. This wasn't right, and he was going to fix it. A woman that pretty should have the chance to enjoy herself at least once.

He fell to his knees in front of her, licking at the blood that poured down her shoulder, arms sliding around her back to support her. "You deserve a chance to savor life."

She tried to speak as his lips found the tear in her throat, gently captured the gushing blood that carried her strength. Her hands tried to grasp his arms, but he wasn't certain if she was trying to pull him closer or push him away.

Quickly, he tore at his own neck, letting the blood flow, and pressed her lips to his flesh in an offering. "I'll make sure you know how to have fun, to enjoy life."

He could feel her teeth in his neck as she bit him.

As she went limp in his arms, Spike rose to his feet, holding her close to him. "We'll have a bloody wonderful time. I promise."

End Bloody Bargain.


End file.
